Never Forget, Lest We Fade
by of monsters and me
Summary: Never forget the little things in life. Always believe; always remember. Stop destroying, and start rebuilding. 4: Ironic, no, how the goddess of mercy is about the farthest thing from merciful as you can get? on hiatus
1. Light

_Never Fade, Lest We Forget_

_Hestia: She is the light in the darkness._

* * *

_1. Light_

The home and hearth – she guards them both. She is the symbol for hope; hope survives best at the hearth. _(Hope survives best with _her_.) _She is the virgin tending to the flame.

She doesn't mind, of course. Living with the less fortunate _(the _mortals_) _isn't that bad – on all accounts, she _enjoys _it. Mortals don't bicker. Mortals don't cause war. Mortals certainly don't live forever. Mortals absolutely – _positively _– don't cause an actual war with their father.

It's just not right; not natural. So it doesn't happen.

But with the gods – no, the _Olympians _– it does. With _her _family, it does. _(Because they're just odd like that – just _different _like that.)_

They have spun the world out of control. What happened to happiness? What happened to _peace_? _(Where did justice hide, Nyx?)_

She is the light in the world of darkness, the beacon at sea.

Because hope survives best at the heart. _(Hope survives best with her.) _


	2. Shadowed

_Never Forget, Lest We Fade_

**Note: **If any of you noticed, I screwed up the title for the last chapter. Our little secret ;)

Rhea: She lives forever, in the shadow of her husband's reign and crimes.

* * *

_2. Shadowed _

_[No! Not him! Not my son!] _

She wakes, sweaty and absolutely undesirable, from her nightmare. It is mostly the same one – do others dream of different things? find a new horror captivating them each night? – and she is always afraid.

_(No , my dear Rhea? She fears nothing!)_

She cannot deny that these have kept coming for a while; that she is scared by them. Why? Why dream of something if there is no significance to it? _(Oh, yes, where is the fun is easy? Where is the challenge in the never-ending path of sameness?) _Why dream of the same thing if there is nothing to remember; if there is nothing to haunt you?

_"Come, come, my dear Rhea. Give me the child . . . yes, just a little closer now." One little step; one little betrayal; one other child lost – but no, not lost. [No, this time _I _win, dear.]_

Such betrayal, such loss; why does her past become mixed with these things? Why is it her divine youth is not a blissful wonderland? It was him, she thinks to herself – the rational side says. But no, he loved you; children would create a rift, argues the side that loves him; the side ruled by emotion.

_"Yes, yes; such a good wife . . . you will be rewarded now . . ." [But, no, I don't want to be rewarded! Let me bask in my glory, since you seem to not see it!]Her screams of sorrow – he thinks they come from pleasure, but he has always mixed the two – ring out, and Mother seems to ignore her._

Her dreams will not let her forget; her past stalks her into sweet nothingness. If only she could have drugs to allow her to enter the house of blackness; out of the blue, into the wonderful white blur of remedies.

_[Sometimes Titans aren't always the bad ones here, dear.]_


	3. Crossroads

_Never Forget, Lest We Fade_

**Note: **Shorter than most. Somewhat a drabble, then. I guess. Whatever.

Janus: Funny how they think he's there to help. He only helps himself.

* * *

_3. Crossroads_

"S-s-s-sir," the little boy whispers. "P-p-please. Help me. I-I'll do anything if you just . . ." The boy gives a shudder and screams. A soldier for Kronos' army takes the sword and gives a swing.

Silence.

The boys slings the sword and gives a formal salute. "Sir, I hope we can keep this meeting private." _[Of course, little boy, wouldn't want your masters mad at you, now would you?]_

He gives a stiff nod. "You are dismissed."

.

.

.

Poor little Annabeth looks like a dead beat. _(In the right company he'll admit that she's something of a looker – but that's not his place here.)_

She stares at him as if in awe – oh, the power of a god!

She thinks he's here to help. But, oh, he's not.

_[No, no, little lady, I only help myself.]_

.

.

.

And years later, he'll lie on a couch with a woman on his arm and a heart on his sleeve and he'll think, _this is why I only help myself._


	4. Mercy

_Never Forget, Lest We Fade_

**Note: **ironically, for **Eleos **herself. Sorry if she is more demonic than you would have imagined, but I felt it wasn't all roses and daisies.

Eleos: Ironic, no, how the goddess of mercy is about the farthest thing from merciful as you can get?

* * *

_4. Mercy_

"I will say this one more time, demigod: who is your _godly parent_, girl?" Eleos, goddess of mercy, asks. Her tone is much more forceful and cold than you would think a goddess – of _mercy_, no less – would use. "Speak!"

"I . . . I don't know, miss," the little girl whimpers. Of course she doesn't. She cannot be but eight or six. She will not spare her; she was no Athenian. Only the Athenians worshiped her, and their time was long gone.

"Dispose of her, will you?" she says to a nearby monster – she doesn't look to see which kind – while she walks away. She hears screams, but doesn't turn around. _[_And, don't you know, your screams of terror will haunt me for eternity?_]_

.

.

.

Her black hair sweeps around her, framing her angelic _(_deadly_) _face. Her red lips are pulled into a smirk. Heels, jet black, click on the tiles. "Hello, Miss Eleos, how may I help you?" asks the owner of the bar, a mortal who can see, politely, knowing one false move will cost him his death.

"Just taking out the trash, Albert." She can see him pale, even in the poor lighting. He thinks she means _him_.

"If I may so much as ask, Miss, why I—," he starts.

She laughs cruelly. "Oh, Albert, don't flatter yourself. I meant my dear _ex_-lover; heard he was going to be in tonight. Although if you wish I could make two stops today . . ."

The man again pales, white contrasting against the seemingly-bright colors of his clothes. "No, Miss, but if I may ask his name I might know of him." His suggestion brightens her mood incredibly.

"It's John. John Silver. Terribly cliché, isn't it?"

Albert doesn't answer.

.

.

.

Please don't think too badly of Eleos, she's not who she once was, you see. She is no longer kind and graceful and just. No, she has been broken.

They have taken all her children. All her children over the years and tortured them 'till no more. They sent her the heads. She must serve them now; serve them so her last child will not suffer, will not die. The Titans have made her bitter.

.

.

.

"Momma!" the little girl screams as Eleos walks in. She is two, probably, and lives in the drab places Eleos has the misfortune to own. The father was killed like the others; his sister offered to watch the child, provided she a place to stay and food to eat.

The little girl, Marie, runs to her mother in joy. She runs clumsily; mastered walking but not yet getting used to how fast she is while running. "Hello, Marie," she says, picking up her daughter. _(_You see, she still has some compassion; has not forgotten how to love._)_

"Momma, why are you always away?" The question is asked innocently, casually, as if it is no crime to learn of such things; as if her mother wasn't a murderer.

"Someday, dear, when you are older, I shall tell you."


End file.
